


Triple Roasted

by checkmate



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, F/M, It just happened, M/M, Multi, because I adore coffeeshop AUs, bruce is a long suffering barista, bucky is a massive hipster i'm so sorry, coffeshop au, this is essentially just straight up fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-10
Updated: 2016-07-23
Packaged: 2018-07-22 18:47:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 17,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7450120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/checkmate/pseuds/checkmate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bruce didn't intend to get involved in their pranks, and he certainly didn't intend to end up involved in their relationship. All he did was accept Pepper’s bribe to misspell her boyfriend’s name on a cup of coffee; he has absolutely no idea how it escalated so quickly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tonysbruce](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tonysbruce/gifts).



> This was meant to be a short one shot bit of Dr Pepperony fluff for Brooke and then it got out of hand. This seems to be happening a lot lately. 
> 
> Also, if you're looking for in-character Bucky Barnes close your eyes now lmao idk why but my brain decided hipster!Bucky was the funniest thing ever and I couldn't shake it so yeah. I left actual Bucky Barnes in the MCU and instead brought you a new version where he favours a man-bun, frequents craft beer breweries and wears a lot of plaid. Soz.

It’s smack bang in the middle of Bruce’s only quiet hour when the girl comes in, that one blissful hour after the lunch rush is done but before the students roll in for their afternoon coffee study break. The essential chunk of time he needs to clean up a bit, wipe down the espresso machine, and generally get his shit together. It’s a ritual to him. Even his colleagues know it’s a sacred hour and never a good time to ask him for stuff.

The woman darts in, red-faced like she’s run here, and comes up to the counter with a wicked grin.  As she sweeps her hair from her eyes, Bruce can’t help but notice that she’s exceedingly pretty. Like, possibly the most attractive woman he’s ever laid eyes on. Oh god. “Do you do that thing like in Starbucks where you write a name on the cup?” She asks without any preamble.

Bruce stares at her. Great. This is just what he needs right now. _Time wasters._ “No. We don’t exactly have the turn over to make it necessary.” He says, forcing himself to be polite even though there is a small puddle of spilled coffee on the counter that he’s desperate to wipe up before it stains the wood.

“ _Can_ you write a name on the cup?” She asks, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Could you do it just for me? Please?”

Bruce sighs. “Look, why don’t you just go to Starbucks?” It’s a stupid request, really, but if this girl really cares more about the name Sharpied onto her paper take out coffee container than its actual contents, he isn’t keen to spend any more precious time on her. Probably just wants to fucking Instagram it, because apparently despite the fact that it’s 2016, people still think they’re going to get likes by Instagramming pictures of their name written on a shit cup of coffee.

“Tony won’t go there anymore.” She says with far more chirpiness than could possibly be necessary. “They kept spelling his name wrong.”  

He doesn’t know who Tony is and he doesn’t at all care, but Bruce pauses, despite his acute lack of interest, and frowns. “How do you _keep_ spelling Tony wrong?” He wonders. Sure, Starbucks is always deafeningly noisy, but still, it’s hardly the most complex name to handle.

“Oh, I hear it’s quite easy to do.” She says innocently. “When some kind generous person tips more for increasingly creative spelling errors. I’m Pepper, by the way.”

“Um. Bruce.”

“Hey, Bruce.” She grins, and drops a crisp twenty dollar bill into his tip jar that usually contains nothing more than a couple of bucks. By the time he’s taken in the implications of that, the woman has bounded out of his shop without a backwards glance. Okay. That was… weird. But whatever. There are things to be done, surfaces to be cleaned, God damn it. He’s not getting wrapped up in any schemes. Like, seriously, you wouldn’t think that being a barista is a profession that would expose you regularly to so many _schemes_ , but God, you’d be surprised. If he has to see one more elaborate proposal, disaster first date or, worst of all, tragic public break up during his shift, he’s gonna scream. All three of them usually result in him having to clean up spilled coffee, and he just doesn’t need it.

You know what else he doesn’t need? The return of the hot ginger woman, accompanied by a man who could only be the previously mentioned Tony. Who is also super hot. For fuck’s sake. Pepper stands behind him, grinning at Bruce over Tony’s shoulder. “Hey, can I get a vanilla frappuccino with a pump of raspberry syrup and whipped cream and caramel drizzle?”

Bruce looks at him in disbelief. “Um… No?” Pepper tries so hard to hold back a laugh. “Our coffee menu is up there.” He says, and points to the chalkboard above his head offering things like… espresso, or macchiato, or cappuccino. He tries not to think of himself as a coffee snob (though he kind of is) but he doesn’t even get how an order like that would even taste like coffee.

“You don’t have any syrups?”

“We have chocolate syrup. For making mochas. Other than that, no.” Tony doesn’t really know what to say, so Bruce ignores him. “What about you?” He asks Pepper, hoping that she might actually know what coffee is.

“Large Americano, black.” She says simply. He smiles despite himself. Thank fuck for that. “He’ll have a mocha.”

Read: Tony doesn’t like the taste of coffee. At all.

Bruce hesitates. He really doesn’t need to take a name for any reason other than the fact he’s being bribed to. Fucking schemes. Part of him wants to not get involved with this ridiculousness, but… Well, Pepper’s already put the money in the jar, and for some reason, it feels like stealing if he doesn’t write something stupid on Tony’s cup. It kind of feels like stealing anyway. He could donate it to charity, but then he also needs every penny he can get his hands on if he wants to eat and live and make his rent this month. Fuck it. “Uh… Can I get a name for that?” He says, very aware of the totally empty café as he avoids Tony’s eye. (It’s still fifteen minutes to the next rush).

“Tony.” He says without even questioning it.

“Pepper.” She adds with a smile.

He grabs the Sharpie he’d managed to dig out after Pepper’s visit earlier, and scrawled names hastily on the side of two cups. He makes their drinks on auto pilot, and has them on the counter in barely a minute, a perfect replica of the coffee shop’s logo adorning the top of Tony’s drink in grated chocolate. “That’ll be $5.75, please.” He says, his heart irrationally pounding faster than it should be. Pepper hands him ten dollars, and as he scrabbles around in the till for change, he hears Tony groan.

“Are you—” He starts, so Bruce hurriedly shoves the money into Pepper’s hand and tries not to look at the twenty still in the tip jar. “It’s Tony. With an ‘n’. Not Toby.”

Bruce knows he’s blushing like a fool, and Pepper is rolling her eyes behind Tony’s back. “Oh. Right. Sorry.” He says and considers confessing the whole stupid game.

“Come on, Pep. Let’s go.” He sighs in relief as the two of them leave, hoping to God that’ll be the end of it, but then the door swings back open, Pepper calling “Forgot my scarf!” through the door as Tony questions where she is going.

“That was weak, Bruce.” She whispers with a shake of her head and drops the change into the tip jar as well. “Think up some better ones, ready for next time.” She picks up her scarf that she’d probably left on the counter deliberately, and skips out.

… Next time?

*

“—And then Steve and I will probably head over to that new craft brewery across town. Do you know it? They just understand the _process_ better than the mainstream beers most people drink, and it makes so much difference.”

Bruce seriously regrets asking his co-worker if he had any plans for the weekend. He tries so hard not to continually smash his head into the counter and focusses instead on restocking the pot of coffee stirrers and sugar sachets for the eighth time this shift as Bucky continued babbling on, oblivious to his total disinterest.

He hates working weekends. Sure, it’s usually busier and everyone is even more impatient despite the fact that they have nothing to do, but the real reason he hates working weekends is because he has to spend four insufferable hours with the biggest hipster mankind had ever spawned, right down to his oversized ‘vintage’ plaid shirts and slightly greasy man bun. It’s only on Saturday that they overlap and it’s the most tiresome part of his week. It’s not that Bucky is even a bad guy; he’s just exhaustingly pretentious and unbearably dull. Bruce is one hour and thirty-four minutes in, and he’s already struggling.

“Steve is doing another art show next week so that’s been keeping him busy, and along with my photography, it’s all starting to take off.” He continues, oblivious in equal parts to both Bruce’s total indifference, and the fact that he’s meant to be doing some God damn work. Bruce just nods silently, having learned from experience that it’s not wise to engage him further. “You know, I really think that this one might be the time Steve gets spotted. I mean, Phil Coulson¸ you know, the art collector, was at two of his previous—”

Bruce is saved from another story of how Steve is just seconds from completely redefining the art world forever by a customer walking in. He sighs in relief until he sees that it is that redhead from before. Pepper. Pepper with the generous tips and the stupid schemes. Tony, of course, is right behind. “Hey, Bruce!” He grins as he comes in. Bucky looks surprised. “That thing you made me the other day was delicious! Like, a million times better than Starbucks.”

Bucky turns his nose up at the mere mention of the S-word in his distinguished presence and stalks away to pretend to wipe down a table that Bruce has already cleared. He ignores him, however, and instead smiles nervously at Tony. “I’m glad.” He says, glancing at Pepper for some support in this. “Did… Do you want another one?” He adds when Tony makes no move to say anything else.

“Oh. Oh! Yeah. Yes please.” He smiles broadly. “Hey, do you have a toilet here?” Bruce points him into the back of the café while he makes up his drink. As he walks past Bucky, his colleague stops fake-working and stares at him. Like, Bruce acknowledges that the guy is fucking hot, but Bucky has a boyfriend. Come on.

When he turns around with the mocha, Pepper is leaning against the counter. “Bruuuuuuce…” She says slowly, mischievously. For fuck’s sake.

“Come on, Pepper.” He pleads, wondering how exactly he got himself in this situation. “He literally told me his name last time. There’s no reason for me to continuously misspell a four letter name.” Pepper smirks, opens her purse and puts a five dollar bill in the tip jar. “Can you stop doing that?” He complains; it makes him feel super uncomfortable. She’s put close to thirty bucks in there in the last few days, and it’s getting ridiculous. Even if she is super rich (he suspects both her and Tony are, in fact) there are way better places that she could be putting her money. He’s definitely putting that $5 in the next collection box he comes across. She shrugs and just stares him down until he relents. “What do you want me to put?”

“That’s your job, not mine, Brucey.”

Tony comes back before he has a chance to snap out a response. “Your soap smells really good.” He says, totally oblivious. “Smell!” He thrusts his fingers under Pepper’s nose, and she indulges him and sniffs. “Isn’t it great? I want some.”

Bruce rolls his eyes. “Pepper, did you want anything?” He’s covering the writing on Tony’s cup with his hand, not letting go even though he’s put it down on the counter.

“If I have any more coffee today I’ll be bouncing off the walls.” She says, but there’s a touch of regret in her voice. “Next time, definitely. Your blend here is amazing.”

“Thanks.” He smiles, because she’s right. It really is a good blend. “That’ll be $3.50.” Tony gives him $5 and refuses to take the change, so he throws that in the tip jar too. He hands the drink over and turns away from the counter instantly, giving the espresso machine an unnecessarily thorough wipe down.

“Tannoy? You didn’t even ask my name!” He howls, and Bruce smiles to himself just a little. “Now you’re just fucking with me.”

“Okay, Tannoy, time to go.” Pepper steers him out the door but throws Bruce a quick grin and a thumbs up from behind Tony’s back on the way out.

He’s still smiling a little when Bucky saunters over. “What was that about?”

“Nothing,” Bruce says quickly, defensively. Bucky raises an eyebrow. “It’s just a bit of a game I kind of accidentally got roped into. A girl annoying her boyfriend. Plus, they really like our coffee, so…”

“Hey, maybe you’ll finally get some regulars! It’s about time!” Bucky grins, probably meaning that to be a positive comment. Because apparently your skills as a barista are measured entirely by your number of ‘regulars’, despite the fact that is a totally immeasurable statistic. How often do you have to come in to be a regular? What if _your_ ‘regular’ comes in on your day off? Bruce firmly believes the whole concept is ridiculous.

Bruce turns around tidy a stack of paper cups so he can roll his eyes in private. “Yeah.” He says falsely, trying to sound like the idea of having regular coffee shop customers is his idea of a personal nirvana. He fails.

“But you do know who that is, right?” Bucky presses on.

“Who?”

“Tony. That’s Tony Stark.” Bucky says impressively, and Bruce’s mind is drawing a total blank. Is he meant to know who this kid is? Although Bucky’s reaction seems to confirm his suspicions that the two of them are both super rich.

“Is this like a hipster thing?” Bruce says flatly. “Did he revolutionise the world of ugly baggy sweaters or something?”

“Come on, you must have heard of him. He’s Howard Stark’s son.”

Bruce does a double take. “Howard Stark, billionaire energy tycoon?”

Bucky laughs. “I thought you might have heard of him. He’s right up in all of your hippie shit, right?” Bruce ignores the jibe—at least he cares about something that isn’t a pop-up flavoured gin bar. He can't believe he has served Tony Stark coffee. Twice. “And that girl must be Virginia Potts.” Bucky continues, clearly enjoying lording it over him on one of very few occasions that he knows something Bruce doesn’t. And it’s always celebrity gossip. For someone who claims to dwell outside of mainstream popular culture, he sure knows a lot of celebrity gossip.

“Who?” He says tiredly, because he knows Bucky is going to tell him anyway.

“Tony Stark’s girlfriend. Model, fashion designer, runs a foundation that gives college scholarships to disadvantaged kids. Tony Stark’s full-time babysitter.”

Bruce suddenly feels very unaccomplished. “She said her name was Pepper.” He says weakly.

Bucky looks at him with equal parts pity and contempt. “It’s a nickname, Banner. I can't believe Pepper Potts and Tony Stark are your new regulars and you had no idea!”

No matter how much Bruce tries to explain they’ve been in twice and it’s really not a big deal, Bucky will not shut the fuck up. When the remaining two hours pass and Bucky eventually leaves, Bruce has never been so glad to have the place to himself, where he can clean up and close in peace.

Part of him hopes that Pepper and Tony don’t come back to the shop again because he feels kind of awkward being a pawn in their games. On the other hand, Bucky seems genuinely jealous of his being on tenuous first name terms with a model and her son of a billionaire boyfriend. Even Bruce has to admit, it’s one of the more anecdote-worthy things that’s happened to him while at work.

“How was Bucky today?” Betty teases when he eventually gets back to their tiny shoebox apartment. She’s made him dinner. She is the best friend anyone could fucking ask for. He does not deserve her. “Has he grown a massive ginger beard yet?”

Bruce snorts and pulls the plate of pasta towards him. “Don’t say that to him. Ever. It’ll only give him ideas.” He stuffs a forkful in his mouth, not even caring that it’s completely stone cold, and swallows it down. “This is so good, Betty.”

“It’ll be better hot.” She says, and steals the plate from him to whack in the microwave. “Good day?”

He shrugs. “Apparently I made coffee for some G-list celebrities.”

“Oh? Anyone I’d have heard of?”

“Pepper Potts and Tony Stark.” He says, and Betty frowns, shakes her head. “Yeah, me neither. Bucky was a lot more excited about it that I was.” As he goes to tell Betty all about Pepper’s scheme, he stops himself. It feels private, somehow. A stupid little thing that he shares with two people he barely knows.

Well, and Bucky Barnes kind of.

Whatever. He’ll probably never even see them again.

*

He sees Tony again his next damn shift, right in the middle of the late afternoon rush. “Hey, Bruce!” He says cheerfully, apparently not understanding the concept of a queue.

“Tony, you’re going to have to wait if you want a drink.” He says, looking apologetically at the sleep deprived guy sporting an unnecessarily large scarf who he is currently serving. “That’s kind of how this queuing thing works.”

“Do you get a break anytime?” He asks, ignoring Bruce’s words entirely. He grits his teeth and continues making this guy’s cortado; he needs his tips to buy food, and he’s not going to be getting any tips if he stands around talking to Tony while people are practically queueing out the door.

“No. I finish at six thirty.” He says shortly, and turns to his customer. “I’m so sorry about him. Let’s call that three bucks as an apology for the wait.” The guy seems pretty happy with that, and even drops a quarter in the tip jar.

“Hey, can I get a decaffeinated cappuccino, no chocolate on top, please?”

Bruce smiles and sets about making the next order while being very aware of Tony still standing at the counter. “So I’ll come back at six thirty, yeah?” He calls over. Bruce cannot believe it. Well, if this is how Bucky measures his success as a barista, he can have it, because this whole regulars thing is just fucking annoying now.

“Tony, do what you want, okay? I’m at work. Working. Trying to make coffee for people who have waited in line and are paying actual money. Go. Away.” The girl with the decaf cappuccino laughs slightly, and Tony god damn pouts, but finally turns to leave. Bruce hands her the coffee and apologises profusely, but she’s not bothered.

“Is he your ex?” She asks as she taps a card on the reader. “He’s clingy.”

“No, he’s actually someone who I have only met twice, but he seems to have forgotten that.” She laughs, takes her coffee, and the next customer steps up.

It takes a good forty minutes before he has a second to actually think beyond espressos and milk foam, and there’s still a steady stream of people floating in. The last few hours of his shift always go fast, and six thirty rolls around in no time. He’s just wiping down the last table when he hears the door swing open, making the little bell above it ring. “Sorry, we’re clos—Oh.” It’s Tony. “All the machines are shut down, Tony. I can’t make you a drink.”

Tony looks confused, and then grins. “Oh! You thought I wanted coffee. No, dude, I came to see if you wanted to grab a beer.”

“Um.” Bruce has no idea what’s going on. Tony has, apparently, completely forgotten that they have met all of twice, and for less than five minutes with both occasions put together. “I’d love to, but I… Um… I—I’m totally broke. Sorry.” It’s not technically a lie—actually, it’s not at all a lie. He wishes it were a lie.

“Don’t worry, it’s on me.” He’s still smiling. Why is he still smiling? Bruce has absolutely no parameters to deal with this situation. “Come on, Bruce. Pepper’s out of town for work and Rhodey’s still at boot camp and I’m bored out of my mind.”

“You realise that I’m pretty much a total stranger, right?” He says quickly, just, you know… to confirm. Maybe Tony has him confused with someone else.

“Everyone’s a stranger at first! I promise I am not a total weirdo or a crazy murderer or anything.”

“That’s exactly what a crazy murderer would say.” He responds automatically, and Tony rolls his eyes.

“And that’s exactly what I knew you’d say. You have no real excuses. Let’s get a beer.”

He’s right. Bruce has no more excuses, so that’s how he ends up drinking beer in a total dive bar with Tony Stark, of all people. Everywhere is pretty quiet since it’s still early, and it’s a Tuesday. He lets Tony order them both a drink, and he ends up with something that Bucky would probably cry over or start worshipping or something. It’s okay, he thinks, but he’s always been more of a coffee person. “I know who you are, by the way.” He blurts to break the silence, and Tony chuckles.

“Oh yeah? Who am I?”

Bruce takes a large swig of his beer, for courage probably. “You’re Tony Stark. You’re Howard Stark’s son.”

He laughs again, but there’s less humour this time. “Yeah, that’s true. So I am.”

He doesn’t say anything else, and Bruce feels oddly like he’s fucked up. “I mean, I didn’t know who you were. Bucky, my colleague, Bucky, he told me. He knows things like that, you know. Celebrity stuff. I don’t really follow it.” He’s word vomiting, he can tell. Oh god oh god and now Tony thinks he’s a total idiot.

“Bucky… is that the ‘I practically invented vintage plaid’ guy, from Saturday?” Tony asks, and Bruce nods. “Yeah, he totally looks like the type.” Tony drains his first beer and looks at Bruce. “You want another one?” He asks, but Bruce’s barely touched his, the glass still three-quarters full. Tony’s back in barely thirty seconds as the bar is deserted. “So, you know who I am, huh? What do you know?” He smirks

“Uh.” He says awkwardly. Literally nothing. Literally not a single thing other than a) he’s Howard Stark’s son b) he’s Virginia Potts’ boyfriend and c) he gets annoyed when people misspell his name at Starbucks. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything.”

Tony shrugs. Bruce drinks his weird hipster beer to fill the silence. “You know what I noticed earlier?” He says suddenly, just as Bruce is considering downing the beer and making a run for it just to escape the awkwardness. “You don’t write on anyone else’s cups.”

It takes Bruce a second to figure out what he’s talking about. “Oh. Right. Um.”

Tony leans his chair back onto its hind legs and surveys Bruce over his pint. “Pepper totally bribed you to fuck with me.” Bruce shrugs. It’s not like there’s much point lying; it’s pretty obvious. Tony laughs. “I need to tell her to stop giving people money for stuff like this.” He says, shaking his head slightly.

“If it makes you feel any better, I donated it to charity. I mean, some of it went on milk, but most of it went to charity.”

Tony laughs, and it lights up his face, leaving Bruce painfully aware of just how attractive Tony Stark really is. “Which charity?”

“What? Oh, Water Defense, but—”

“Good choice.” He chips in. “I’ll tell Pepper some people benefitted from her immaturity, at least.” Bruce isn’t really sure what to say to that, because he figures that pointing out Tony’s reaction is equally immature isn’t really an option. He drinks some more of his weird beer to put off having to say anything for several more seconds. “I’m trying so hard to be mad at you for aiding and abetting Pepper’s pranks, but I’m failing. Possibly because you were so appallingly bad at it. Like damn, it’s a good job you’re cute because you are _bad_ at pranks.”

Bruce splutters at that and manages to dribble beer down his chin. He blushes furiously, wipes it away with his sleeve and tries not to think about the fact he can practically feel Tony’s gaze burning into his skin. It’s not… He obviously didn’t mean it like that. Firstly, because he has an incredibly attractive girlfriend already and secondly, well… who is he kidding? Tony Stark can do much better than a struggling college student/ part time barista.

“Come on, you were terrible!” Tony says defensively, since apparently he thinks Bruce is indignant about his ability to come up with good fake names. (He’s aware how bad he is at that, thanks very much.) “Tannoy? What the fuck, Bruce?”

“I… You…” He manages, then swallows his words and gives up before he embarrasses himself anymore. “Right. Sorry.”

“So you’re gonna stop?” Tony says seriously.

“I’m not sure it’s going to matter. There’s a 98% chance that Pepper’s going to go and find another coffee shop and another barista to bribe.” He shrugs and tries not to sound too disappointed. They might have been disruptive, but for once, Bruce doesn’t overly mind the scheming. Tony and Pepper brought some entertainment to his day.

“She won’t.” He says certainly. “You got me to drink actual coffee. Pepper’s never going to leave you alone.” Bruce tries to stop the smile being too obvious on his face. Despite the weirdness of this whole ‘getting a drink’ proposal, he’s actually having a good time. Tony’s nice, he’s friendly and funny, and he wouldn’t mind seeing more of him. In a friends kind of way. Because Tony Stark has a girlfriend and isn’t interested in him like that and probably says that everyone is cute. “Now, pinky swear.”

Bruce does a double take. “Pinky… What?”

“Pinky swear you’ll stop writing stupid stuff on my cup.” Tony explains like it should have been obvious. Pepper’s probably going to be mad at him, but he can’t help but cave to the pathetically sincere expression on Tony’s face. Jesus. He has his hand extended and waving in Bruce’s face, and yeah, that’s it. He’s just pinky sworn for the first time in like, fifteen years probably.

“You’re ridiculous.” Bruce tells him.

“Tell me something I don’t know.”

*

“You’re home late.” Betty comments when he eventually makes it back to their apartment. He’s not drunk, as such, but he is a little tipsy and she notices straight away. “Please tell me you didn’t go out drinking alone.” She says with a kind of fond exasperation. "Even for you, that's tragic."

“Not alone. Tony Stark.” He says by way of explanation. “Sorry, I should have texted you so you knew I’d be back late.”

“Did you at least get me my Tuesday take out?”

He holds up the carrier bag of Chinese, and she grins. “Well thank God for that.”

She takes it from him and starts dishing it on to plates—take out is one thing, but eating it out of the container is a step too far in Betty's eyes—and by the time Bruce has changed into comfier clothes, Betty is sat on the sofa with Netflix all lined up and ready to go. He collapses next to her, grabs some chopsticks and shovels noodles into his mouth. “So was it a date?” She asks, not even taking her eyes off of the TV.

He rolls his eyes. As far as Betty is concerned, every time he does anything with anyone that isn’t her, it’s a date. Because he has no other friends. “Obviously not. He has a girlfriend, remember? Pepper Potts, the most accomplished person to ever exist?”

“Right. Of course.” She says, but she’s still grinning. “So are you seeing him again? Did you get his number?”

“It wasn’t a date. His friends were away and he was bored.” He says flatly. “That’s all it was. Stop being so... so gossipy.” He doesn’t answer the bit about the phone number; she’ll only take it the wrong way. (He totally got his number.)

“So you’re telling me that Tony Stark had no one better to hang out with than a barista that he doesn’t know?” She’s still. Fucking. Smirking.

“I don’t think he’s the kind of person who is overly concerned with normal social etiquette.”

“Or maybe he just thought you were adorable.” Betty says, doing a great job of being downright infuriating. “I mean, he’s right. You are adorable.”

“He doesn’t think I’m adorable!” He protests. He hopes Tony Stark doesn’t think he’s adorable. That is totally not the aesthetic he is going for. Words drift back to him from earlier that evening— _it's a good job you’re cute._ And all the touching and the joking and the laughing and— “Oh my god.” He says, horrified at his sudden realisation. “Betty, he might have been flirting with me. But like, friendly flirting. Not like actual actually flirting. He’s probably just a flirty person. It’s not like it means anything. He’s just being friendly. Right? Right?”

Okay now he’s totally talking himself into a panic and Betty isn’t helping at all by bursting out laughing. He doesn’t want to get involved in this, should never have agreed to get a damn drink (did he agree, or did Tony just whisk him away before he had a chance to respond?). “Bruce, chill out. He’s probably just a bit more relaxed about these things than you.” She says when she’s recovered from her mirth. “Not everyone in the world treats a casual beer as an intention to marry.”

“I don’t! I just don’t want to, you know… cause problems. With Pepper and Tony. I don’t want to get involved.”

“You said it yourself, Bruce.” She shrugs, and helps herself to another spring roll. “That girl is way too awesome to be jealous of you.”

“Well, thanks, Betty.” He says, trying to sound affronted. He’s not that affronted. She’s very much telling the truth. Pepper really has no reason to be jealous, even if Tony _had_ been flirting with him.

“Anytime, Bruce.”


	2. Chapter 2

“See! I told you if we came in at like, three, it’d be empty!” Tony is triumphant as he strides over to the counter, earning himself a glare from the one customer sitting in the corner, who is trying to enjoy a drink in peace. “Hey, Bruce!”

“Hey, Tony. Hey, Pepper.” He tries really hard to sound normal and not sound like he’s freaking out about the very remote possibility that their drinks thing constituted as cheating. “What can I get you?”

“Mocha!” Tony blurts immediately, looking very proud of himself.

Pepper looks at him with a smirk. “Cappuccino, please.”  

“Hey, Bruce?” Tony says slowly, with a grin on his face that makes it blindingly obvious that he wants something. “Can you show me how to make your coffee order?”

Bruce hesitates. He’ll probably get into a shit ton of trouble if his boss finds out, but he’s not really sure how to say no to Tony. He just has one of those faces. “Fine. Okay. I mean, I usually just drink espressos, but if you really want to…” Tony stands expectantly, and Bruce realises eventually that he’s expecting to be let behind the counter. Into an area that’s about three feet square. That Bruce is already occupying. Oh god this is just a bad idea from start to finish. He flips the lock and opens the gate to let Tony have access to the espresso machine, and Pepper just watches with an amused expression on her face.

“So which one is espresso?” Tony asks looking at the array of different sized take out cups. Bruce rolls his eyes, wondering how exactly someone cannot know which one an espresso is, and takes out one of the smallest.

“It’s not very exciting.” Bruce tells him. “It’s literally just plain coffee.”

“Well, you make me coffee, so now I’m going to make you coffee. Kind of. Well, I guess you’re still going to make it.” He stops to consider the flaw in his logic, but it only waylays him for a moment or two. “Next time! Next time I can make you coffee.” Tony takes the paper cup from Bruce and grabs the Sharpie that Bruce has ill-advisedly left in an easily accessible place. Okay, this makes more sense. Tony just wants to troll him, as some kind of lame revenge. Tony grins, hides the writing with his fingers as he puts the little cup under the machine spout.

“Then you just press this button.” Bruce explains patiently, and the coffee streams from the nozzle into Tony’s cup, rich and earthy and _shit_ , Bruce actually really wants a coffee right now. He doesn’t usually drink any when he’s on shift, because it doesn’t take that many espressos to cut deeply into his pay check, but now… Yeah, he could totally go for it. And it’s worth it to see the look of amusement on Tony’s face as he presents Bruce with his beverage.

“Ta da!” He says proudly, and Bruce swallows it down pretty much in one mouthful.

“Perfectly made.” He says sarcastically, but Tony beams anyway. Wow. He turns the cup around to see what Tony has written, expecting something totally immature, like ‘balls’, probably. What he’s not expecting is ‘dinner?’ and a winking face. Open mouthed, he turns to Tony in surprise, and the idiot just winks and holds a finger to his lips. _Don’t tell Pepper._

Bruce cannot believe Tony is doing this while his girlfriend is stood not ten feet away. So maybe Tony has a bit of a reputation (Bruce may or may not have Googled him) but that is totally out of order. There’s a part of him that wants to show it to Pepper immediately, to blurt out that they got drinks and Tony said he was cute and flirted with him, but he’s sworn that he’s not getting involved. Besides… he’d rather not be around when that argument kicks off.

“Uh, I’ve just remembered.” He blusters pathetically, knowing he’s hardly sounding convincing. “I have to close early today, so you guys need to go. Like, now. Straight away.”

“Bruce, wait—” Tony says, still practically pressed against him in the tiny space behind the counter.

“No, you need to go.” He repeats, and squeezes past Tony to free himself. “I need to clean up and—”

Pepper is confused, clearly, but he’s not explaining this to her. He doesn’t want to be a part of this and _God_ he wishes the woman had never set foot in the shop in the first place. “How much for the coffees?” She asks and God he can’t even look at her.

“Don’t worry about it.” He says, ignoring his empty wallet as it screams in protest. “On the house.”

Pepper rolls her eyes, and puts twenty dollars on the counter. “See you around, Bruce.”

As they leave, Bruce clearly hears Pepper ask Tony, angrily, what the fuck he wrote on that cup.

*

It’s Saturday again. Fuck Saturday. Fuck Bucky Barnes and his persistently upbeat attitude and his committed relationship to wonderboy Steve Rogers and fuck his regular customers who leave him good tips without feeling the need to involve him in their relationship shenanigans.

Tony hasn’t been back. He rang a few times, maybe to apologise or maybe to ask him out again, but Bruce keeps rejecting the calls, deleting the numerous texts without reading them. He feels stupidly guilty about the whole thing, like he’d encouraged Tony over their drinks without realising what was happening. Twice, he nearly resorts to asking Bucky for advice. Fortunately, he catches himself at the last minute, knowing it really isn’t worth the inquisition it’s sure to bring. Barnes doesn’t exactly understand when something is or isn’t his business.

“You’re grumpy today.” He notes, and that just makes Bruce scowl further. “Did your boyfriend break up with you?”

He grits his teeth. “I don’t have a boyfriend.” He says, not looking up in the knowledge that Bucky is probably giving him a pitying look, as if life isn’t worth living without a significant other. “Or a girlfriend, before you ask if she broke up with me as well.”

Bucky shrugs. “Something’s bothering you.” Bruce ignores him. Definitely the right decision to not tell him anything. “You need a coffee?”

“Don’t really have the money at the moment.” He admits, trying not to look too embarrassed. He’s a student, damn it. Even the fifty percent discount doesn’t mean he can afford it.

“Well, I wasn’t suggesting you pay for it.” Bucky says as if it’s obvious, and gestures towards the tip jar.

It doesn’t surprise him for a second that Bucky pays for his coffee from the tip jar. He knows it’s a thing people do, but the money is meant to be split between the staff. So maybe he took Pepper’s bribe money out, but that was technically nothing to do with his job. Besides, he gave it to charity. Doesn’t count. Taking money out to buy yourself coffee is just wrong.

Bruce _really_ could do with a coffee.

He tips a handful of coins out and counts them into the till, and by the time he’s done, Bucky has made him an espresso. With no inappropriate writing on the cup. “Thanks.” He says, feeling kind of bad about the tip jar. Not that it makes it okay, but in his defence, everyone else totally does it.

A few people come in but Bruce lets Bucky handle it; they look more like his kind of customers anyway, artfully ripped jeans and beanies and shearling jackets abound. One of the guys fawns over Bucky’s hair, of all things, and Bruce excuses himself to hide in the back of the shop and wipe down some tables before he has to listen to another word about the freedom that not cutting your hair brings.

The door jingles again, and Bruce wonders if it’s acceptable to just hide here in the back for three hours and do nothing. He’s already stolen coffee today; he’s slowly but steadily turning into the thing that he hates. “Hey, what can I get for you?” Bucky says with his favourite flirty tone he uses exclusively for pretty boys. He doesn’t want to watch this, and considers going and pretending to clean the toilets or something to get away from it.

“I’m looking for Bruce.” The voice says. He’s wrong. It’s not a pretty boy at all. It’s Pepper.

He turns around suddenly, still clutching a bottle of disinfectant in one hand and a damp cloth in the other. “Pepper—” He starts, and then realises he has nothing to say.

“I know you’re at work and I’m really sorry but can we talk please?” She doesn’t look upset exactly, but that doesn’t rule out the possibility that she knows.

“Um. Sure. Bucky, I’m taking my break now.”

“You’ve already taken your break!” He complains, but Bruce doesn’t care.

“Then I’m taking a cigarette break.”

“You don’t smoke.”

“Neither do you, but you still take cigarette breaks.”

He steers Pepper into the stock room at the back of the shop, the smell of freshly roasted beans filling the air as Bucky yells “I vape!” after them.

“Of course he does.” Pepper laughs. “Look, Bruce... About the other day—”

Bruce is honestly surprised that Tony told Pepper what had happened. It wouldn’t have been hard for him to feign ignorance. “I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to get in between you two; hell, I didn’t even realise Tony was flirting until I got home on Tuesday and...” He trails off at the amused expression on Pepper’s face. “Why are you smirking like that?”

“Do you think you broke me and Tony up?” She laughs. “Tony says it’s your fault for having a drink in such a stupidly small cup. If only you drank a large iced frappé, this never would have happened.”

So Bruce is super confused. “So you guys... haven’t broken up?” He says slowly. “What does this have to do with my coffee preference?”

“Tony wasn’t trying to cheat on me with you, Bruce. He was inviting you on a date.” Bruce goes to interrupt, because a) yes he figured that out and b) how on earth isn’t that cheating, but she continues. “With both of us.”

Bruce pauses, not really sure what that means or how to process it, so he blurts out the only thing in his head. “Like a threesome?” He says stupidly.

Pepper laughs again. “Kind of. Minus the sex. Although, not necessarily always minus the sex, but, you know, for now.”

He’s more confused than ever. “So it would be... a date with you? And Tony? At the same time?” She nods. “Do people do that? Is this a thing now?” He wonders aloud. Clearly they do, else he wouldn’t be getting this offer, but this... this is definitely one of the weirdest proposals he’s ever had.

“Sure. If you’re not into it, don’t worry about it. It’s just... I think you’re cute. Tony definitely thinks you’re cute. And you’re a nice guy. And as far as I’m aware, you haven’t taken any candid pictures of us and put them on Twitter, so hopefully we can trust you.”

“As far as you’re aware.” Bruce deadpans, unable to help himself. “Can I get your number?” He asks, his heart beating weirdly in his chest even though she’s not going to say no.

“Phone swapsies.” Pepper says, and Bruce tries not to think about how much nicer her phone is than his shitty four year old Samsung, and adds himself as a contact. “So is that a yes?” She adds hopefully.

“It’s an ‘I need to think about it’.” Bruce says. In reality, it’s probably a yes. He’ll try anything once. Within reason. “I’ll text you later?”

She grins. “If you put that number on Twitter, the date's off.”

“You’re seriously overestimating how many followers I have on Twitter.”

The rest of the shift goes by in a blur, making coffees on auto pilot while he weighs up the pros and cons. Bucky teases him about how long he spent in the store room with Pepper, and he tries to ignore it except now he’s thinking about kissing Pepper, kissing Tony.

It’s not a bad thought. Not at all.

He promised himself he’d wait until tomorrow, that he’d sleep on it before texting Pepper, but deep down, he knows what he’s going to do.

*

The second Bruce text Pepper to confirm he is down, he gets a message from Tony.

_this is gonna be so much fuuuuuuun_

_you have terrible communication skills, just saying_

He doesn’t tell Betty because he’s not really sure how to explain it, but she asks, of course.

“Oh my God, are you going on a date?” She grins when he tries to leave the apartment. He’s panicking about being late so much that at this rate, he’s going to be an hour early. “Spill, Bruce. Is it that Tony Stark again?”

“That wasn’t a date!” He protests hotly. “But, um... Kind of?”

“Kind of? Bruce, you’re wearing your good shirt. And aftershave. This is definitely a date.”

“I’m offended that you think I only have one good shirt.” He says, transparently avoiding the real question. “Fine. Fine. Yes, it’s with Tony. And his girlfriend.”

Well, she’s not expecting that. “His... You’re going on a date with Tony Stark and his girlfriend? Is this like a threesome thing? Do I need to vacate the apartment or are you going to theirs?”

Okay, he appreciates his mistake. Having this conversation as he’s trying to walk out the door is a terrible idea. “It’s not a threesome thing. They...Uh... Look I don’t really know, okay? It’s a date, with two people. Who are already a couple.”

“So... a threesome?”

Bruce shakes his head. “No, I think like... a three way relationship kind of thing. Not just sex.” Pepper hadn’t said as much, but he’d inferred it. No pressure; they’re just going to see how it goes.

She stops to consider it for a moment. “People do that?” She says eventually.

He shrugs. “Apparently. Anyway, it might go terribly so I’m not really thinking beyond tonight, for now.” He checks his watch. “And speaking of tonight, I need to leave.”

“I cannot believe you didn’t tell me about this!” She says. “I’m going to get all the details later.” Bruce groans. Of course she is. “Text me if you end up going back to theirs, okay?”

“Yes mom.” He snarks, but deep down he appreciates the concern. “It’s not going to happen, but whatever.”

“Use protection.”

“Betty, I swear to God…” He says, desperately avoiding eye contact.. “That’s not… We won’t… We’re just having dinner, okay? To get to know each other. Like any normal couple might on a first date.”

She side steps, lets him actually get to the door. “You know I’m just teasing, right? It’s none of my business who or how many people you want to date.” He smiles, nods, and is about to ask her if he looks okay when she interrupts. “You look fucking sexy, you idiot. Go. Get out there. Have fun.” She pretty much forces him out of the door and hears the distinctive sound of the lock clicking behind him. Like, obviously he has his keys, but the point stands. Don’t back out now, Banner.

He’s spent most of the day bracing himself for one of those fancy restaurants where he doesn’t even know what half of the stuff on the menu is and none of the meals have prices, but when Pepper sent him over the address, he’s pleasantly surprised.  He Googled it and it turned out to be... a burger bar. A very nice, contemporary hipster-y burger bar with brioche buns and guacamole on everything, but a burger bar the same. Bruce can do burgers. He knows burgers. It removes one thing from his seemingly never ending list of Things He Is Terrified About.

Even with Betty’s interruption, he’s twenty three minutes early and now has to decide on the best course of action. After debating the merits of going inside and sitting awkwardly alone at the bar, or standing awkwardly outside so it’s obvious he’s been waiting, he decides on moving further down the block and crossing the road, finding a decent position where he can see the door of the burger bar, but hopefully they won’t see him. Perfect. Let them be the first people to arrive, or at least let them think that.

As the clock ticks closer to seven thirty, Bruce starts to doubt himself. What if they’re late? If he turns up even later, is it going to look bad, like he’s having second thoughts? But if he goes in now, and they’re late and they think they’ve kept him waiting, it could turn awkward really quickly.

There’s a possibility he’s over thinking this.

He decides on his plan of action; if they haven’t shown up by 7:27, he’ll go in and hope they show up soon.

Oh God what if they don’t show up at all? What if this all some stupid prank and he’s sat there in his best shirt like an idiot? He should never have agreed to this. It’s a terrible idea. Maybe he should text Tony and say something vague and get himself out. He even takes his phone out, types “I’m really sorry but I can’t make it after all” and stares at it for a moment.

No. Maybe it’s a bit out of his comfort zone, but most relationship type things are, even with one person. He can at least give it a try.

He glances at the restaurant again, and, is that... That’s definitely Tony getting out of the back of a ridiculously nice car, Pepper clambering out after him, and then the car pulling away. Holy shit. Like obviously Howard Stark is rich, but... holy shit, Tony has a driver.

Bruce gives them a couple of minutes’ head start, then darts across the road and checks his hair in the window of the shop next door (his hair is always a mess so he’s not sure why he bothers) and steps inside. “Oh, um, I’m meeting friends?” He says nervously to the hostess standing by the door.

“Bruce, hey!” Pepper calls over from a nearby table. The hostess smiles and waves him in, and he goes to sit down. Pepper and Tony have sat down opposite each other, which leaves Bruce a decision about who to sit next to.

“Um.” He stammers awkwardly, not wanting to offend either one of them, but Pepper laughs. 

“Sit here, Bruce.” She says in a friendly voice. “Tony has a tendency to elbow people when he eats food with his hands.”

“Hey!” He protests as Bruce sits down. “Just a warning, Pepper won’t order fries but then will eat all of yours.” Tony hits back.

“I don’t usually eat them all anyway.” Bruce admits, but Tony dramatically lifts his hands to the ceiling. Pepper snorts, clearly used to his theatrics.

“That’s even worse, Bruce! You're telling me that there could have been extra fries for me if Pepper didn’t steal them!”

“Maybe that’s a good thing, T.” She teases. “Your jeans are getting a little tight again.”

This is what Bruce had worried about, the easy back and forth between two people who know each other better than anyone else. What he hadn’t expected, however, is how comfortable he feels just being there, watching, listening to them bicker good naturedly. It doesn’t stop, moving from Peppers ordering habits to Tony’s drink of choice apparently, really, actually being a root beer float—“They are delicious, okay. They are a dessert but in a drink, so you still get another dessert after.”—but each time the conversation lurches, Bruce doesn’t feel like he’s being left behind.

“You know, I’ll have to make you an affogato one time, when you come to the shop.” Bruce loves affogato. Bruce is the reason his boss even agreed to put them on the menu.

“A what?” Tony says in confusion. Right. Tony knows nothing about coffee.

“It’s like a float.” Bruce explains. “A ball of ice cream with a shot of espresso poured over it. You just have to try it; it’s amazing.”

“Now that is a great excuse to have ice cream for breakfast.” Tony beams, and takes another spoon of soft, soda soaked ice cream. Bruce mouths an apology at Pepper when he’s not looking, and she laughs. “What?”

“Nothing.” Bruce grins. All his worries have flown out of the window; this is easy. He’s never felt this comfortable on a date in his life—even one that’s a little more traditional. Tony’s complaints about being ganged up on are fortunately interrupted by their waitress taking their order, and Bruce tries not to look surprised when Pepper orders a burger—like Tony had predicted earlier, she doesn’t order fries.

“I’m never going to be a size zero.” Pepper explains at the look on Bruce’s face. “If anyone wants to tell me I’m too fat for eating a burger from time to time, they can shove it.”

There’s a lull in conversation, and while Tony and Pepper look totally comfortable, Bruce feels the pressure building every second to think of something witty and interesting to say. He’s never been good at small talk, and all the easy topics what do you do, where are you from—have already been answered by his research. Eventually, he blurts out the only thing he’s really been curious about this whole time. “So, uh... Do you do this a lot?” He asks, gesturing vaguely across the table  between them.

“Go on dates?” Tony answers innocently, but his teasing grin gives him away. “Yeah, from time to time it’s been known to happen.”

“I mean, with... You know, with another person. This kind of thing. The three person thing.” He’s babbling, oh God he’s babbling. He should just go. Like, now, before he embarrasses anyone anymore. “Obviously it’s cool if you do. Or if you don’t. It doesn’t make any difference to me, I just—”

“Bruce.” Pepper interrupts, looking at him pitifully. And now they think that he’s a super awkward socially incompetent nerd. Which is exactly what he is, but they didn’t need to know that so quickly. “It’s not something we do a lot, but it’s something we have done before. Occasionally.”

“It’s hard to find people that are into it.” Tony shrugs. “People are easily threatened. Or they think we’re going to break up and one of us will run away with them.”

Bruce frowns. That’s one thing he has zero expectations of ever happening; he can see that Tony and Pepper are meant to be together. “Well, I can promise that's not going to happen with me.” He says, hoping he sounds sufficiently sincere while wondering what exactly he’s signing up for here.

“Oh, we know.” Tony says confidently. “The look on your face when you thought I was trying to cheat was evidence enough.”

Bruce bites his lip. What was he meant to think? It's not like Tony had implied anything else. “You could have been clearer.” He protests weakly.

“You could have had coffee in a bigger cup so I had more space to write what I meant.” Tony argues back.

“You could have used your words.”

“Yeah, I _could_ have done, but where’s the fun in that?” Bruce rolls his eyes. It’s nice, actually, knowing that there’s still someone in this dark and bitter world that is actually that easily entertained.

The conversation moves on to his studies, and Bruce describes his grad project as vaguely as possible. He’s learned by now that questions about research are made purely out of courtesy than actual interest, but apparently Tony is the exception. “You’re a physics grad?” He says excitedly. Bruce is confused. That fact doesn’t usually create such enthusiasm, but Tony probes him with such insightful questions that Bruce wouldn’t have been surprised to find out Tony studies the same classes.

“Engineering, MIT.” Tony explains, waving it away like it is nothing. “But nuclear has always fascinated me. Guess I get it from Dad.” His knowledge base is a lot deeper than just fascination, but Bruce doesn’t bother pointing that out. Tony isn’t just Howard Stark’s son; he’s completely brilliant in his own right and Bruce had no idea.

“Half of my professors don’t understand my research past the second line of the proposal.” He says in disbelief.

“If it makes you feel any better, I got lost the moment you said nuclear physics.” Pepper chips in. “Business administration. I don’t get your science shit.” She watches them exchange science jargon with a fond smile though, happy just that Tony is enjoying himself.

The food arrives, and Tony puts his fries on the other side of the table so Pepper can’t reach them with a grin on his face. Bruce puts his exactly in between himself and Pepper, and ignores her protestations. “Pepper I promise you I’m not going to eat them all anyway. Have you seen the size of this thing?” He says, gesturing at the burger. “It’s the size of a small car.”

She laughs, pinches a few fries and ignores Tony’s gasps of mock betrayal. “Seriously though, don’t let me eat too many. This might be news to Tony but they’re not exactly good for you.”

“Who cares?” Tony says through a mouthful of food, a bit of melted cheese hanging from the corner of his mouth.

“You probably should or I'll make you start coming to the gym with me again.”

“I'm in great shape.” Tony defends. “Aren't I, Bruce?”

He has no idea how to correctly respond to that. Bruce isn’t good at flirty things that are so... obvious. Not that he's good at flirty things that are subtle. Basically he’s just bad at flirting. “Uh, yeah, you... You look great.” He says, because he does, but Bruce isn't sure how convincing that actually sounds. Tony looks happy enough though.

“See? Bruce thinks I'm sexy even when I eat shit all the time.” He smirks at Pepper as if Bruce's stammered flattery is the final word on the matter. “I guess I’m just lucky that I have a super fast metabolism.”

It’s hands down the best date that Bruce has ever been on, and when they get to the end of the evening, Pepper and Tony refuse to take his money. “We asked _you_ out.” She argues, attempting to stare him down until he puts his wallet away.

“I don't want it to look like I’m taking advantage of... you know. You guys having money.” He says sheepishly. Sure, he might be skint and a free meal is always welcome, but he doesn’t like feeling indebted to people. Especially since he really likes them both, and kind of hopes this weird arrangement might just work out. “At least let me get the drinks or do the tip or something.” He protests. 

Tony looks like he’s going to argue, but Pepper lets him put some money down for a tip without objecting too much. “But you know it’s really not necessary.” She says gently. “I had a really good time tonight, Bruce.”

“Ditto.” Tony chimes in. “And I’m 100% taking you up on that ice cream coffee thing this week.”

Bruce smiles helplessly. He hasn’t had his much fun in months. “I had a really good time too.” They get up to leave, and Tony’s car is parked out front waiting for them.

“You want a lift home?” Pepper offers.

Bruce takes a guess at the kind of areas of the city they’re bound to live in, and they’re all the opposite direction to him. “I don’t want to make you go out of your way.” He says tactfully.

“Bruce, seriously, it’s no problem.” Tony grins. “What’s your address?”

He hesitates slightly as he gives it to the driver, a street deep in the kind of area people don't exactly live in out of choice. Tony gets in the back on one side and Pepper sits between them, although the car is large enough that there's plenty of space.

They pull up outside his apartment block amid the stares of literally every single person on the street. “You should probably go before someone tries to mug you.” Bruce says, only half joking. “Thanks again, for dinner. And for the lift. It was great.” He unfastens his seat belt and goes to open the door, but Pepper grabs his arm to stop him.

“We had fun too.” She grins, that same twinkly eyed mischievous grin that started this whole thing in the first place. “Lots of fun.” Before he really knows what’s happening, she leans over and kisses him. It’s over before he really has time to process what’s going on, his head reeling as he tastes cherry lip balm on his lips. She’s still grinning, still mere inches from his face, and—fuck it.

He nervously cups her jaw with his hand and closes the space between them, desperately trying not to think about how long it has been since he kissed someone sober. She runs her fingers through the hair at the back of his neck, her soft lips smiling into the kiss as his breath hitches.

She pulls away just as Tony lets out a strangled “Oh my _God._ ”

“You snooze, you lose.” Pepper quips. “See you later, Bruce.”

He grins sheepishly at Tony, and the driver gets out of the car and opens the door for him. (Literally what kind of world do these two live in?) He takes that as his cue to leave. Stepping out, he says an awkward thank you to the driver and waves Pepper and Tony goodbye.

He barely manages to close the apartment door and take his jacket off before Betty starts interrogating him. “How was it? Was it fun? Was it weird? Did you make out?”

Bruce ignores her and puts the kettle on, turning his back so she can’t see just how obvious the answer to that was. Betty doesn’t fall for it. “You totally did! How does that even work?” Bruce carries on ignoring her as best he can, taking an awful lot of care in getting a mug and a tea bag out of the cupboard. “Don’t deny it, Banner. I totally saw lipstick on your face when you came in.”

He rolls his eyes and turns around. “Yeah, because I’m really going to fall for that.”

“You’re blushing!” Betty says happily. God, she’s far more invested in this relationship that she has any right to be. “Was it Tony or Pepper?”

He sighs in resignation. “They gave me a lift home, and Pepper kissed me before I got out of the car.”

“Knew it!” She crows. “Was it good? Was it like... just a kiss or did you properly make out?”

“Betty, I’m not discussing this with you.”

“I always tell you everything about my dates.”

“I don’t _ask_ you too!” He protests. He’d really be more than happy if she told him a few less details, in fact. “It was a really nice evening, okay? We got burgers, and it was the best date I’ve been on in years. Possibly ever. Happy?”

She beams and pours herself a cup of tea, too. “I’m always happy when you’re happy.”

*

After two weeks, four more dates, several more kisses and at least one of the two coming in for coffee every time he’s working, Bruce is forced to admit that he’s totally smitten. Even Bucky, who is notoriously unobservant when it comes to other people’s lives, has commented that he seems happier—a fact that apparently vaguely irritates him.

“Are you sure they’re not just using you?” He asks with a slight sneer.

Bruce really doesn’t want to talk about Tony and Pepper with Bucky, but that’s all the other guy wants to discuss these days. As far as jabs go, he doesn’t even try to hide it. Bruce rolls his eyes. “Using me for what, Barnes? It’s not like I can offer them much more than my company, and while that might not seem like much to you...”

“Well, that’s my point. If Tony Stark and Pepper Potts wanted to have a threesome... No offence, but they could do way better than you.”

Nice. Thanks Barnes. He’s perfectly aware of this fact, of course, and actually, Bucky is totally right. If they just wanted a threesome, they definitely could find someone with more interesting sexual experiences and a prettier face. But Bruce doesn’t have completely rock bottom levels of self-esteem, so while he’s not sure what the two of them see in him specifically, he knows there must be something. That’s more than good enough for him.

“So what was it like?” He presses, a smirk on his face.

“What was what like?” Bruce asks dumbly.

“The threesome. I heard that Tony Stark was a massive slut in college; I bet he _loves_ —”

“Shut up.” Bruce snaps. “You wouldn’t like it if I talked about Steve like that, would you? Now lay off.”

Bucky rolls his eyes, shoves his hands in the pockets of his skinny jeans. “Don’t act like he’s your boyfriend, Bruce, you’re only kidding yourself. He’s already got Pepper. You’re just there to spice up their inevitably boring and vanilla sex.”

Bruce takes a deep breath before he accidentally slaps the smirk right off of Bucky’s face. “I’m taking my break now.” He says, not trusting himself around this idiot until he calms down a little. He needs this job and he’s going to lose it pretty quick if he assaults his colleague in the middle of a shift.

He’s pissed off at Bucky, but he can’t really blame him. If their roles were reversed, he’d probably think the same, but it didn’t stop it being incredibly frustrating. He has an unpleasant moment of realisation that somewhere on the deep dark corners of the internet, his relationship with Tony and Pepper is probably worthwhile gossip, and hopes to God that Barnes doesn’t feel the need to spread it. When he re-emerges on to the shop floor fifteen minutes later, a few customers have drifted in and thankfully, the discussion is abandoned.

“Hey, honey!” Tony calls when he and Pepper waltz in later in the afternoon. Bruce now fully expects them to stop by, especially on a Saturday since they know how much Bucky drives him crazy. He regrets taking his break already, but it can’t be helped.

“Hey, Tony. Hey Pep.” He replies easily, trying not to laugh at the surprised expression on Bucky’s face. Honey. Not a term of endearment usually applies to human sex objects. “What can I get you?”

“Two cappuccinos.” Tony says proudly.

“Graduating from a mocha, huh?” Bruce jokes. “Good for you. Anything else?”

“Um... What about a kiss?” Tony bargains, eyes lit up in mischief.

“We're actually fresh out of those right now.” Bruce says sincerely. He can see Bucky in the corner of his eye, watching the whole exchange with increasing confusion.

“Well, can you knock one up fresh for me? I’ve got a real craving.” Tony grins, leaning over the counter. Bruce meets him in the middle, a quick gentle peck on the lips that sets his heart racing nonetheless. “Is that all you got?”

“At short notice, yeah.” He says, because even he draws the line at making out with Tony while he is at work. At least with Bucky here, anyway.

“So if we gave you more notice...” Tony says slowly. “Like tonight, for instance?”

Bruce turns away to make their coffees, very aware of Bucky watching their whole interaction like a hawk. He grabs the Sharpie, scribbles on Tony’s cup, and hands them over. “That's $7.50, please.” Tony takes his, looks at the message and laughs.

_I finish at 4._

Tony drops the change into the tip jar. “You wanna come over later?” He asks, totally casually, like it’s nothing.

Bruce freezes. “Like... to your place?” He says stupidly.

“...Yeah?” Tony says, totally confused by Bruce’s hesitation, so Pepper—always the more aware—steps in.

“We’ve got some stuff to do anyway so we can come back and pick you up at four.” She explains, and Bruce feels like it isn’t so much a question any more. It’s a direct invitation.

“Um. Sure. Why not?” He says, his heart pounding in his chest. “Right.”

Tony beams. “Cool. See you later, Bruce!” He says happily, and they leave him to the mercy of Bucky’s incessant questioning.

“You haven’t been to their apartment?” He says in confusion, the second they’re out of the door. “You’ve not been doing it in your place, have you? You live in a dump.”

Bruce is annoyed and offended and not sure where to begin. “One, you’ve never been to my apartment so you have no frame of reference for that.” Like, he’s totally right, but that’s not the point. He can’t imagine Bucky and his starving artist boyfriend live anywhere much nicer. “Two, do what, Barnes? We’ve been on a few dates, that’s all. I know you don’t believe me that it isn’t about having a threesome, but that’s the truth. We haven’t had sex and we probably won’t be having it tonight. Now will you please get your nose out of my personal life?”

So maybe that came out a bit louder than he intended and now he’s getting more than a few odd looks, not the least from Bucky himself. Whatever. He doesn’t need Barnes or anyone else to understand it.

“You ever had a threesome before, Banner?” Bucky asks with a grin, guessing the answer. His guess is right.

“No.” He says shortly. “Sorry, I thought I just asked you to butt out.”

Bucky laughs. “They definitely have.”

“Bucky, shut up or I swear to God I will punch you in the face.” Bruce says flatly. Why does it have to be Bucky he gets stuck with on weekends? It could be literally anyone else, and it would make his life infinitely less tiresome. He checks his watch for the thousandth time, wishing the hands would move faster.

Only an hour left and then he’s free.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you've never had affogato I strongly encourage you to try it. It will change your life forever.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And Part 3. Enjoy!

Four o’clock rolls around with minimal extra contact with Bucky, and when he steps out on to the street, Tony and Pepper are waiting for him in a ridiculously ostentatious car. At least there's no driver this time; Tony sits behind the wheel looking totally comfortable, window wound down and dark sunglasses over his eyes. As he approaches, the door clicks unlocked and Bruce clambers awkwardly into the back seat.

“Fucking hell.” He says as he takes in the dark leather interior and heavily tinted windows. “Please tell me this is not your car. Please tell me this is some Ferris Bueller shit and you stole this from your dad.”

Tony laughs. “You like her? She’s my baby.”

Bruce shakes his head in disbelief. When they’re just hanging out and getting drinks, it’s easy enough to forget that both of them are, well... rich. Sure, they pay more than their fair share of drinks bills—Bruce thought he’d succeeded in making them let him pay last week, only to find $50 in the pocket of his jacket when he got home. Pepper pleaded ignorance and refused to take it back—but then things like this happen and Bruce is embarrassed by the fact that he walks most places because he can’t afford the subway.

After the car, Bruce prepares himself for a frankly preposterous apartment, and isn’t disappointed. The lobby is bigger than his own apartment, and it has a doorman who looks at his ugly work uniform suspiciously as Pepper sweeps him into the elevator. Tinny music fills the silence as they ride up to the sixth floor, Bruce horribly nervous, Tony absently scrolling Twitter.

The door opens, and he follows them down the hall to their door. “Excuse the mess.” Pepper says, rolling her eyes. “Tony’s still unpacking.” She pushes the door open and shit yeah it’s a really nice apartment, open and light and airy rather than dark and stuffy like his. There’s no lingering smell of damp, no questionable stains on peeling wallpaper, and only a few dirty dishes in the sink.

“We only moved in quite recently.” Tony says, and Bruce notices a few cardboard moving boxes stacked against the back wall, all of them with Tony scrawled across the side.

“No, we moved in _eight months ago_.” Pepper corrects. “He just can’t bring himself to actually unpack and like hell I’m sorting out that CD collection.”

Bruce laughs. “You have a really nice place.” He says honestly. It seems a bit redundant to say it, but he’s so overwhelmed by it (and the thought of how much it must cost, Jesus) to say anything else. He’s nervous about even walking in properly, in case he has mud on his shoes or something. Actually it’s probably best if he just takes them off. Tony is already making himself comfortable on the couch, kicking his shoes off and leaving them just where they land. Bruce lines his up neatly and leaves them by the door, then just stands awkwardly by threshold, not wanting to intrude.

“You can come in, Bruce. We don’t bite.”

“Unless you want us too.”

Pepper tuts, slapping Tony on the back of the head. “Tony, _please._ ” She says in total exasperation. “Bruce, there’s really no need to look that nervous. Most of this stuff is from IKEA. You’re not going to break anything, and we did not invite you here with the expectation of having sex.”

Bruce splutters helplessly, part wanting to argue against her allegations and part wondering how exactly she manages to read his mind every damn time. “I… Yeah. Okay.” He goes to sit down, and Pepper shuffles up to leave the empty space in the middle. Plus, it’s really only a two seater.

Well, this is… _cosy._

Tony taps his phone screen a few times and the TV comes on, some shit reality show that Bruce vaguely recognises. He leaves the volume low, just background noise to fill the silence.

Bruce can’t help but let his eyes drift, taking in the room. Even if Pepper is telling the truth and most of their furniture is from IKEA, there are certain pieces that are definitely not. A vase on the table in the opposite corner, a set of three glass bowls on the coffee table (currently holding half a pack of mints and a handful of loose change) and a framed painting of Paris hanging on the wall. “That’s beautiful.” He says, gesturing at the artwork.

Pepper smiles. “Thanks. I like to think I have decent taste.” Tony rolls his eyes; Bruce guesses the trio of movie posters on the opposite wall belong to him. “Have you ever been?”

“Huh?”

“To Paris.” She explains, and Bruce laughs.

“No. I’ve never left the country.” He feels embarrassed even though he knows that they know perfectly well he doesn’t have their kind of cash. “Honestly, I’ve only ever left New York a handful of times to visit my cousin in Ohio.”

Pepper smiles sheepishly. “I guess I’m lucky I get to travel a bit for work. Not much, mind you, but it’s probably for the best. Tony gets bored easily.”

“I noticed.”

“Hey!” Tony protests. “There's nothing wrong with enjoying having company, okay?”

“You invited me out for a beer, Tony. We'd met twice.”

“I was taking you for a test drive.” Tony grins. “Had to make sure you were more than just a pretty face.”

“And I passed?”

Tony nods. “Although your pretty face helped too.”

Bruce blushes a little, really hoping Tony and Pepper don’t notice. They do. “I don’t have the kind of face that people usually describe as _pretty._ ” He explains. He can count the number of people who have told him he is pretty on one hand. In fact, on two fingers. Guess who.

Tony shrugs. “Strong jaw, good hair. You’ve got that kind of ‘oops I forgot to shave’ facial hair thing going on; I dig that. Eyes deeper than the fucking Mariana Trench.”

“That was pretty obscure knowledge.” Bruce laughs, doesn’t comment on the rest of Tony’s description.

“You never know when you might need obscure geographical facts, Bruce. They make for good similes.” Tony says seriously. He reaches out, unfastens the top two buttons of Bruce’s ugly work shirt, and lets his fingers graze briefly at the chest hair peeking from the collar. “You're really rather attractive, Mr Banner.”

Tony closes the distance between them, his fingers still on the collar of Bruce’s shirt as he touches his lips softly to the corner of Bruce’s mouth. He moves away instantly, just the briefest peck, and Bruce is embarrassed to admit he moves with him, subconsciously craving more. He opens his eyes, not sure when they closed, to see Tony smirking at him. “You’re an asshole.” He says, which only makes Tony smirk more.

“Oh, you wanted more of that, did you?” HIS fingers move to the next button, deftly undoing it another inch. He uses the extra give to run his hands over Bruce’s shoulders, his fingers linking behind his neck as he pulls him closer. Their eyes meet a second before their mouths, and Tony is smiling when they kiss.

His left hand stays on Bruce’s neck while his right wanders, tracing patterns down his back, every touch making him shiver, lean into Tony’s touch. He can barely keep track of what his mouth is doing, barely able to respond to Tony’s insistent lips let alone do much else. His fingers tighten on Bruce’s waist as Tony’s mouth moves down from his lips to his neck, kissing and licking gently. Bruce gasps as his tongue flicks into the hollow of his collarbone, giving the flesh there a quick bite before covering it with a kiss.

His dick twitches in his pants. Oh god. He is not getting hard just from making out. This is not happening. Tony is pressed against him already; if he keeps this up its going to be noticeable way too soon. He’s never been more relieved that when Pepper coughs expectantly.

Tony grins sheepishly, looks at his girlfriend over Bruce’s shoulder. “Sorry, Pep. Did you want a go?”

And that’s how Bruce finds himself passed from Tony to Pepper, from the most attractive guy who has ever so much as spoke to him to the most attractive girl, and they both seem pretty keen on kissing him. He’s not complaining. 

The dick situation makes itself known pretty quickly, Pepper preferring to lick into his mouth, practically fuck him with her tongue. What can he say? This is hands down the hottest thing that’s ever happened to him. He can see Tony from the corner of his eye, rubbing himself over his jeans, probably thinking he’s being discreet. He’s not.

Pepper’s lips don’t leave his as she unbuttoned the rest of his shirt, pushing it off his shoulders. He lets go of her waist to yank the horrible coarse fabric off his arms, dropping it to the floor, and gets his hands back on her as soon as he can.

She smiles into his lips. “You’re such a gentleman.” She murmurs with a small chuckle; he’s confused for a second, but then she takes hold of his wrist and moves his hand up a foot or so, placing it on her breast.

“Oh shit.” Tony moans from beside him. With that encouragement, Bruce squeezes gently, trying to at least keep time with their kiss, trying desperately not to fuck this up like some eighth grader touching a boob for the first time. She hooks an arm around his waist, pressing their bodies closer together, and yeah there’s no way she hasn’t noticed he’s at least popping a semi.

She bites his lower lip, draws it out between her teeth, and then lets go, moving back. “Someone’s having a good time.” She teases. He knows he’s bright red, but she waves it off. “Don’t worry about it. Tony is practically jerking off over there.”

“That was the hottest shit I’ve ever seen.” Tony manages, eyes blown wide with pure lust. “I swear to God, Bruce...”

“I think Pepper did most of the work.” He admits, but Tony shrugs it off.

“You’re a really great kisser.”

“Uh... Thanks?” He’s starting to feel a little self conscious, his shirt on the floor while the other two are fully dressed, but he doesn’t want to have to put his work shirt on again. “Do you have a t-shirt I could borrow?” He asks Tony. “I really hate wearing that thing when I don’t have to.”

“Yeah sure. One sec.” He jumps up and goes into the next room, reappearing a few seconds later with a t-shirt adorned with a giant MIT logo.

“Living the dream.” He jokes, gesturing at the insignia with a grin.

“You wanted to go to MIT?” Tony asks curiously. “Why did you end up at NYU?”

“I did my undergraduate at Culver, actually. They gave me a full ride. I couldn’t afford MIT tuition.” He shrugs. Culver is a great university and the professors there did nothing but encourage him, so he doesn’t regret it for a second. He can barely afford grad school as it is, even with plenty of funding for his projects, but the look on Tony’s face makes it clear that he can’t quite comprehend making decisions based on money rather than anything else. Pepper, however, silences his inevitable questioning with a single withering look.

When Bruce's head pops out the top of the shirt, Tony is grinning. Bruce is much broader than Tony, even if Tony is more muscular, and the tee doesn’t hide anything. “Sorry, it’s kind of tight.”

Pepper smirks. “Don’t lie. You’re not sorry at all.” It doesn’t stop her giving him a quick look over though, winking when Tony is looking the other way.

“Damn, you got me.” Tony glances at him appreciatively, and Bruce fidgets a little under his gaze. He’s not positive why he is eliciting such a response; he doesn’t work out other than walking to university and he lives on cheap carbs, but clearly it’s doing something for the two of them.

Tony settles back onto the couch, making himself comfortable between Bruce and Pepper this time. He’s lying across both of them more than actually sitting down, but Bruce has no complaints. He quite enjoys the press of Tony’s back against his chest, the weight of his head resting on Bruce’s shoulder. It’s comfortable, even though he’s still kind of hard and Tony must be able to feel it. Thankfully, he doesn’t mention it.

It takes about five minutes for Tony to get bored of the television and of the silence. He shuffles himself into a better position, nearly kicking Pepper in the boob as he does it, so that he can kiss Bruce’s collarbone. 

He makes eye contact with Pepper, and grins. “Are you going to give me a hickey?” He asks, ninety percent sure he’s joking. Tony just smirks. “Really? You’re going to give me a hickey. Seriously? What are you, twelve?”

“I’ll have you know I’m a fucking connoisseur of hickeys. Right, Pepper?” He glances over at her for support, but she just starts laughing her head off. Possibly due to a fortunate turn of events that means someone else gets the dubious honour of being adorned with Tony’s insistent bite marks. “May I?” He asks, sweeping his thumb across the skin.

He’s grinning like a loon and God, Bruce can’t say no to that face. “If it’s visible at work, this is over.” He warns.

“Deal.”

... To be fair to Tony, he’s pretty good at giving hickeys, but the whole thing is dramatically improved when his mouth moves from Bruce’s collarbone to his mouth. Fuck, Bruce hasn’t made out this much with anyone in _years_. He’s worried he’s out of practise, but Tony doesn’t seem to have any concerns so he rolls with it.

“Honey, I’m home!” The door slams open and Bruce jumps so badly he nearly turfs Tony on to the floor. “Oh. Oops. Um. Sorry.”

“Rhodey? You’re not meant to be back for another month!” Tony says, panic etched clearly on his face. Oh God. Bruce should make an excuse and make a quick exit. He can see this going downhill quickly.

“Yeah, uh… There was a pretty serious training snafu and they didn’t want the newbies under everyone’s feet, so we got a couple days’ leave. I thought I’d come see you guys, but I can see I’ve already been replaced.”

Bruce nearly falls flat on his face, legs still tangled with Pepper’s as he tries to stand up. “Um, I’m Bruce.” He says awkwardly, managing eventually to make it to his feet. “I’m just going to… go. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“Bruce, shut up.” Pepper says conversationally. “This is our best friend, Rhodey, and he’s fucking with you.” Bruce glances nervously from Pepper to Tony to Rhodey and back to Pepper. Rhodey holds the serious expression for maybe two seconds before he cracks up.

“Sorry, I couldn’t resist. James Rhodes. Rhodey. Long suffering best friend.” He pretty much grabs Bruce’s hand and gives it an enthusiastic shake before dumping his giant backpack on the floor and kicking off his shoes.

“You crashing here for a few days?” Pepper asks, and Rhodey shrugs.

“Well, that was the plan, but I don’t want to intrude if you, ah… have company.”

There’s no mistaking the twinkle in his eye; he knows exactly what’s going on. Bruce is suddenly incredibly self conscious of the fact he’s wearing Tony’s t-shirt, and about the edge of the hickey which must be visible beyond the neckline. Bruce hurriedly shakes his head. “No, uh… Don’t leave on my account. I wasn’t—I’m not…” He looks desperately to Pepper for help, and she obliges.

“Bruce is working tomorrow and thus isn’t staying the night, so you’re welcome to the spare room.” She says helpfully, and he relaxes. He’s not, but he wasn’t planning on staying anyway—that wasn’t a lie. The three of them are obviously close and he’ll only get in the way.

Really close. Like, much more than friends close.

Oh God. _He replaced Rhodey._ Rhodey used to _—oh god._

Like, he knows that Tony and Pepper have done this before. He’s not jealous (really, he’s not) but more intimidated. In this head, on the rare occasion he’s actually thought about it, he pictured some guy like him. Just a normal guy. After all, if that wasn’t what they usually did, why did they end up with him?

Rhodey isn’t some normal guy. He’s fucking huge, muscles bulging under the sleeves of his polo, and Bruce is pretty sure he could crush him in three second flat. He’s in the god damn military. And he’s ridiculously attractive. How has he ended up surrounded with painfully hot people? He never thought of himself as insecure about his appearance but God, it’s giving him a complex.

Pepper leaves to make up the bed in the spare room, and a few minutes later Tony goes to the toilet and oh god this is not meant to happen. Rhodey is sat next to him on the couch, looking much more comfortable than Bruce ever will, and the silence gets too much.

“I should go.” Bruce says nervously, standing up without almost falling flat on his face this time. Rhodey surveys him for a moment, but doesn’t reply. “Uh, it was nice to meet you.” He adds awkwardly, which makes Rhodey laugh.  Yep. Okay. This has been painful enough. Time for him to leave.

“Tony, I’m... I have to go, so I’ll see you later, okay?” He calls pathetically in the general direction that Tony disappeared in. How big can this place possibly be? Rich daddy or not, Bruce can’t quite see how Tony pays for this when he never seems to be doing any work.

Tony barrels out of the bathroom, still wiping his hands on his jeans. “Aw, why?” He pouts.

Bruce mumbles something vaguely coherent about not wanting to get in the way, but shuts down Tony's protests firmly. “Look, Tony... Spend some time with your friend, okay? I’ll still be around when he goes back.”

Tony looks at him for a second, then beams. “Thanks Bruce. You’re the best!” Tony throws his arms around him in an enthusiastic hug which Bruce tries not to overthink as he reciprocates. If Tony is hugging him now, like that, then he’s not feeling guilty and he’s not hiding the fact that Bruce is... well, something. Which indicates that either Tony is a total asshole or the thing they had with Rhodey is well and truly over.

Bruce hopes he’s a good enough judge of character that the former isn’t true.

He sticks his head around the door to see Pepper neatly tucking in a fitted sheet (because there’s literally nothing Pepper Potts can’t handle) and she grins. “It’s fine, Bruce, I don’t need any help.”

“No, it’s not that. I’m gonna go.” He says. This is somehow more awkward that it was with Tony, possibly because Pepper is quite a bit more perceptive than her boyfriend.

“You really don’t have to.” She responds, sounding disappointed. “It’s not a problem, Bruce. Rhodey knows how it is.”

That might be true, but from his own experience, there’s a vast difference between knowing how it is, and genuinely being okay with it. He doesn’t know Rhodey—maybe he is genuinely okay with it—but he’d rather not stay and find out. “No, it’s cool, I would have had to have left soon anyway.”

“You sure?” She frowns at him and it’s obvious she knows there’s something else on his mind but he doesn't care. He has no intention of getting between them on this, so he assures her that he is, and makes his exit.

Rhodey cheerfully waves him goodbye. He hopes his response is convincing enough.

He takes his time getting home—actually, public transit takes its time. He’d lost all sense of distance in the car thanks to the constant stop and start of Manhattan traffic, but it was far. He feels bad for them coming all the way out here to drop him off the other day.

Betty swears loudly when he comes in the door. “Don't come in the lounge!” She squeals, and he stops obediently in the door. Unfortunately, their apartment is tiny, and there's nowhere to go without first going through the lounge. Just to add insult to injury, he thinks, apparently everyone is getting some except him.

“I told you I’d be back tonight!” He protests, standing and staring at the wall as he waits for Betty and her date to put their clothes back on.

“I assumed you were talking shit.” She says. “You know how hard it is to have a sex life when your roommate is an antisocial idiot who is practically allergic to all human interaction? A girl’s gotta take a risk.”

He hears a muffled laugh, and then she calls out that they’re decent. Wary enough anyway as he walks in, Bruce tries not to make eye contact with the mortified guy with bright green hair sat on his couch that he just gave the worst blue balls ever. “This is why we have a ‘no sex on the couch’ policy.” He says with a roll of his eyes. “If you were in your room, this shit wouldn’t happen.”

She grins. “What can I say? The Netflix part of Netflix and Chill lasted for a much shorter amount of time than I initially intended. This is Leonard, by the way. Leonard, Bruce.”

The poor guy looks painfully uncomfortable. Bruce would volunteer to leave them to it but he doesn’t really have anywhere else to go and he’s not going to aimlessly roam his frankly unsafe neighbourhood just so Betty can get her rocks off, thanks.

On the bright side, it’s got him out of a detailed analysis of his afternoon since he still can’t decide if it went well or disastrously. “Well, I’m gonna go to my room and put my headphones in and listen to some really loud music.” He says, because it’s not the first time and it won’t be the last that this happens. “But I kindly request you take it to your bed because I don’t want to see _that_ if I need to pee or something.”

Betty nods and stands up, dragging the guy, Leonard, up with her. “Deal. And don’t think this gets you out of discussing your date and why exactly you’re home before ten. This talk is happening. You’re _not_ getting out of it.”

Well, Bruce thought, at least he tried.

His phone buzzes and it’s Tony.

_you left your shirt do you need me to bring it over??_

Part of him wants Tony to come around, but he ignores that part quickly. He has spares, and besides, he still has Tony’s tee, and well... he’s not quite ready to give it back just yet.

*

“So Bucky tells me...” Natasha says with a smirk that suggests she’s been waiting for the perfect moment to bring this up all shift. Usually he likes work with Nat—she also likes to laugh at awkward first dates and they find stupid coffee orders equally exasperating—but he’ll never understand how she gets on so well with Bucky.

“Seriously?” He responds, really starting to get annoyed now. He isn’t used to his love life being the subject of such gossip, and maybe it’s... unconventional, but it’s also nobody else’s god damn business. People haven’t cared so much about his (lack of) relationships since it spread around his high school that he was bi. “Why does he even give a shit?”

She laughs. “Because he’s super jealous, obviously. Is it really _the_ Pepper Potts?” Nat sounds curious and slightly disbelieving but he can’t bring himself to be overly irked by that; he wouldn’t believe it if someone told him either.

“Yes. And _the_ Tony Stark.”

She opens her mouth to say something, but stops herself. Bruce knows what she was going to say though—how? Why? He rolls his eyes impatiently. “Spit it out.”

“I can’t believe you had sex with _Pepper Potts_.” She grins, and okay yeah that isn’t what he expected.

“What? Can we not talk about this?” He pleads, because he is very aware that Natasha is thinking about him naked right now and he loves Natasha but _nope_. “And I _haven’t_ had sex with Pepper Potts, but I’d still rather we didn’t talk about this while we’re at work.”

“You didn’t?” She looks surprised, and oh God he wonders what else Bucky told her. “I thought they invited you back to their apartment?”

He’s resigned himself to the fact that she’s not going to drop this, so figures he might as well get it over with as quickly as possible and minimise everyone’s embarrassment. Bruce begins the story with very little enthusiasm and tells her pretty much everything, especially about Rhodey, and about Tony’s panicked look when he walked into the apartment unannounced. She manages to hold her tongue most of the time, although she doesn’t miss the chance to throw some serious shade when the opportunity strikes. “You can’t tell Bucky any of this.” He begs her, because Bruce knows he’ll just try and rub it in his face.

“Have a little faith, Banner.” She says. “Though for the record, I think you’re overreacting.”

He sighs. “I know. But I really do like them, and I thought it was going well, you know?” He should have known it was too good to last.

A group of teenagers come in, order a load of hot chocolates and a plate of gluten free chocolate brownies. Bruce tries not to visibly roll his eyes at them, at the awkward teenage dating hand holding or at the fact that they _all_ take pictures of their whipped cream and marshmallow topped concoctions and spend five minutes picking the right filter. God. By the time they get around to drinking them, they’ll be stone cold.

“I meant I think you’re overreacting about Rhodey.” She clarifies with a roll of her eyes. Natasha doesn’t have much time for sentimentality. “You already knew they’d done this with other people. They broke up. Now they’re doing this with you. Sure, the whole hot army guy thing is an unfortunate curveball, but I don’t really see why you’re getting so jealous.”

“I’m not jealous! I’m just—” Oh. Shit. He’s totally acting jealous.

“You’re just… jealous?” She smirks, and God he wants to hit her sometimes. Not that he’d ever dare, but still.

Bruce scowls. Why is everyone else always so right about everything? He doesn’t date enough to know how this shit works; it’s not his fault. Bruce tries desperately to steer the conversation away from his love life, and to his relief, Natasha eventually drops it, and they turn to safer topics until the shop gets too busy for idle chit chat.

The door jingles as it opens and—oh God. It’s _Rhodey._ Natasha glances at him, takes in his expression of mild horror, and takes over on the tills without having to say a word. “Hey! What can I get for you?” She asks brightly, far more brightly than Natasha usually greets people. Bruce doesn’t miss the totally unsubtle way she checks him out.  

“Double espresso, please.” Rhodey says, and that warms Bruce to him a little more. At least the guy drinks real coffee. “Hey, Bruce! Tony was busy today so I thought I’d stop by and bring your shirt back.” Natasha raises an eyebrow suggestively and he tries desperately to ignore her.

Bruce, as if on cue, hands him his espresso with a tight lipped smile. He might have no reason to be jealous, but he’s pretty sure it’s still weird that Rhodey has sought out his exes’ new boyfriend. He has to be here for a reason, and Bruce isn’t buying this whole Good Samaritan thing. “Thanks.” He says uncertainly, takes the shirt from him and shoves it under the counter out of sight. “But you really didn’t need to come all the way down here just to return it.”

Rhodey grins. “Okay, I admit it. I was curious about the place that got Tony Stark drinking coffee without whipped cream or four different pumps of sugar syrup.”

“We’re putting that on our advertising, you know.” Natasha chips in smoothly. “The only coffee in the city that’s good enough for Tony Stark. Although I have to admit,” she adds, a smirk on her face. “I think it’s only half the coffee, and half the barista.”

Bruce splutters, unable to even defend himself through pure disbelief of her audacity. She’s just making this a million times more awkward and _fuck_ why won’t the ground just swallow him up?

“It’s fine, you know.” Rhodey says as he takes a sip of his coffee and hums in approval. “You and Tony and Pepper. You don’t need to feel so awkward around me because of it. I know what they get up to. They’ve done it a few times before.” He pauses, reconsiders his words. “I mean, not a lot. They don’t just invite anyone into bed with them. But it’s... Maybe it was odd at first, but I’m used to it.”

Used to it? He isn’t even the first person they’ve been with since Rhodey? Bruce isn’t sure if that made him feel better or worse. “I guess it's just a thing they do with their friends.” He says, trying to dig deeper in curiosity, and yet simultaneously make it look like he knows the full history of Tony Stark and Pepper Potts’ dating life. “No big deal.” Any idea that he might be in any way special to them is slowly going out the window. They’ve done it before, they'll do it again. He doesn’t miss the connotation in Rhodey’s words.

To Bruce’s surprise, he frowns. “Not exactl—wait.” Rhodey looks at him curiously, and then breaks into a grin. “Oh my god.”

Bruce glances over at Natasha nervously, who is making herself look busy changing the coffee filters but is obviously listening to every damn word that is said, a smug grin on her face.

“You think that I...” Rhodey says, and starts laughing uncontrollably. “Oh my god, Bruce. No! We never... Tony has been my best friend for thirteen years. As much as I love him, and as much as I love Pepper, I have absolutely no desire to get up close and personal with their junk.”

“But… But you—”

“Are totally platonic best friends.” He says, teasing Bruce by speaking each word slowly, so it’s impossible for him to misunderstand. “Jesus, Bruce.”

“Told you!” Natasha chirps smugly, poking him in the side for good measure. “Knew you were blowing this whole thing out of proportion. Although you were right about him being way hotter than you. Like, _damn_.”

Rhodey laughs. Bruce really, really hates his co-workers. All of them. All the time. Especially since there’s no way that Nat isn’t going to tell Bucky about this. “I hate you.” He says casually. “Like I actually might murder you right now.”

Natasha shrugs. “You can try, big guy, but you’re not going to come off well from that encounter.” She’s totally right. She could kick his ass from here to Central Park without even breaking a sweat. “Besides, the sooner they find out you’re a massive dork, the better.  You’re not going to be able to keep up the pretence of normalcy for long.” He throws a damp cloth at her head but she catches it mid air and uses it to wipe up a coffee spillage with a smirk. Damn her improbably good reflexes.

The door opens again, and—“Hey, Bruce!” Tony says brightly. “My appointment got cancelled so I thought I’d stop by.”

“Mocha or cappuccino?” He asks, and Tony considers it for a moment before deciding on a cappuccino.

“I can make it.” Nat offers, and Bruce doesn’t protest, even if he is a little suspicious. His concerns turn out to be well-founded when he realises she’s grabbed the Sharpie and is scrawling on the side of the cup with an evil smirk.

“Natasha, don’t you dare—” He reaches out, tries to grab the drink from her but she’s too fast and dodges around him to hand it to Tony.

He takes a few seconds to decipher Nat’s terrible handwriting, then looks at Bruce in confusion. “Wait, what?” Tony looks genuinely confused, his eyes flicking between Bruce, Rhodey and Natasha in turn. “Why did you think we were dating? That’s—I mean, no offence Rhodey, you know I love you, but _ew_.”

“I don’t know! I just assumed!” Bruce defends himself, glaring at Natasha with as much venom as he can physically muster. “And I thought you dat _ed_. Past tense. Maybe there had been a less than enthusiastic break up that you suddenly realised you deeply regretted the moment he walked back through the door or something.”

Okay that was probably too far—Tony is looking at him like he’s an obsessive overly attached stalker.  Great.

“You clearly put a lot of thought into this.” Rhodey remarks, filling the painfully silence that had followed his outburst. “But unfortunately for Tony, we’re just friends. Always have been. That’s it.”

“Right. Of course.” Bruce says, pretending that he’s not entirely ready for the floor to just give way and swallow him whole. “I was… just reading way too much into it, I guess. But… it’s not like we’re _official_ , right?”

“I guess not.” Tony says thoughtfully. “Although neither I nor Pepper have been sleeping with anyone else. Well, except each other, but in this scenario I feel like that doesn’t really count. Have you?”

Bruce splutters, dropping the milk steamer that he’s washing into the sink. He snatches it up, flushing, and hastily wipes away any trace of milk froth from his shirt. “No. No, I... I haven’t. Um. Slept with anyone else.” He chokes out, desperately avoiding Natasha’s (and Rhodey’s) amused expressions.

Hell, Bruce hasn’t slept with anyone in nearly eight months.

“Well, that sounds pretty exclusive to me.” Tony grins.

Bruce pauses, processing the words to make sure that Tony is implying what he thinks, hopes, that he’s implying. He’s about to confirm exactly what _official_ entails when Tony’s phone rings. He holds up a finger to Bruce—even though he’s at work and thus clearly isn’t going anywhere—and takes the call.

“Hey Pep.” He answers brightly, and Bruce has never wished he could hear the other half of a conversation more than at this moment. “How late? Does that mean you’re not going to be able to meet me for coffee?” Bruce feels bad but he’s slightly relieved that Pepper won’t have to witness his humiliation face to face. “What about dinner? I didn’t wake up until gone noon so I can eat late—yeah. Okay. See you later, honey.” He hangs up, puts the phone in his jeans pocket and glances at Bruce. “You in?”

“In for what?” He says dumbly, and Tony takes pity on him.

“Dinner, obviously. It might be a bit late because Pepper’s shoot has overran but we could get a drink or something first? Rhodey, you’re welcome too.”

Rhodey shakes his head, says he’s already got plans catching up with family. Bruce’s first reaction is his default, to politely but firmly excuse himself, not wanting to intrude on their evening together, but he stops himself before he has the chance to back out. “Yeah. Dinner would be nice.” He’s not a third wheel—Tony had said as much just minutes ago. They’re in a relationship now, officially, and however unconventional it might be, it’s a relationship all the same.

Tony beams. “Pizza?”

“Sounds perfect.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Boom. Cutes. I tried to make it angsty a little bit so it wouldn't be plotless fluff but it didn't really happen because I can't stop these guys getting together.
> 
> Yo you can find me on tumblr [here](http://scibros.tumblr.com) as usual <3 Thanks for reading!


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